


Breathe In and Out

by SuicunesRibbonButt



Category: Pocket Monsters: Gold & Silver & Crystal | Pokemon Gold Silver Crystal Versions
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 14:19:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5167001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuicunesRibbonButt/pseuds/SuicunesRibbonButt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morty reflects on how he feels around Eusine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe In and Out

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a 600 word assignment for English, I left their names out, though. Added them in near the end so there's no confusion as to who this fic is about. From Morty's POV, I also briefly mention headcanon relatives I have for Morty, sorry.

Sometimes I forget to breathe. I’ll be lying in bed at night, just about to drift off to sleep, and I’ll violently start coughing. I’ll be wiping the dried up coffee up off my counter from the morning and I’ll end up sprawling on the kitchen floor, looking up at the eggshell ceiling, noticing the cobwebs in the corner, I should really take a broom to get them down but they give some atmosphere, and then it feels like I get kicked in the back when I wheeze out a sharp breath. I wanted to die years ago, but I don’t anymore.

  
The first time I was in bed with him, he ran his fingers along my jawline, singing Fleetwood Mac.  
“My mom used to sing me Fleetwood Mac songs when she was putting me to sleep. Stop. I don’t want to think of my mom right now.” He didn’t listen; he just got quieter.  
“Lightning strikes, maybe once, maybe twice…”  
His fingers felt rough on my skin. Like 100 grit sandpaper. I had to push his hand away and make sure my jaw wasn’t bloody.

  
Weeks went by and his fingers got softer. Sometimes I would sit on the sofa and watch him playing the piano, playing everything from Elton John to Regina Spektor. His shoulders were more hunched than usual, moving back and forth, blades cutting through his shirt. I would pretend to read, but we both knew I wasn’t actually reading. The first night I noticed I was paying attention to his playing, was also the first night that I forgot to breathe.

  
It caught me off guard. I forget to do a lot of stuff. Half the time I leave the fridge open, my socks never match, I had to give my sister a spare key to my house because I’d always lose mine. All I could do was flip my body over on the couch and hack into a pillow until he stopped playing to ask if I was okay.

  
After work, I’ll sometimes go through a drive through, get some greasy food, sit in my car eating, listening hip-hop, which no one would expect me to just by looking at me. I like to glance up at the stack of old air fresheners hanging from my mirror, neon from the food sign flickering in the background. Last week, he called while I had a mouthful of fries. I turned my phone off and threw it in the glove box. I couldn’t end up being short of breath and dying with fries in my mouth at a fast food parking lot. That’s not my style. I’d rather die in his driveway, or preferably not at all.

  
Whenever I go to my mom’s house, she asks how things are. I stay vague with her. She knows Eusine, she’s known him since we were little, so little. I can’t let her know that I think he’s trying to kill me in some way that doesn’t even make sense.  
“You seem very happy together, Morty” Her eyes would light up with sincerity before embracing me into a hug that I would be motionless for.


End file.
